


Such Beautiful Company

by blanchtt



Series: Made For Love [3]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 19:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10169801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchtt/pseuds/blanchtt
Summary: It’s nearing two in the morning when Sarah stands, whispers in her ear, and they split from the guys.





	

 

 

 

Sarah spends the rest of the night sitting in her lap, toying with her dreds or her necklace or the collar of her blouse, and the attention is pretty damned enjoyable. Cosima catches Scott’s incredulous glance more than once, and splays her hand across the small of Sarah’s back posessively, grinning.

 

It’s nearing two in the morning when Sarah stands, whispers in her ear, and they split from the guys.

 

She’s not really the type of stay up all night since she’s, you know, got a real job and all. But sleep is the furthest thing from her mind as she unlocks her car, and she gets in and sits and watches as Sarah settles into her passenger seat, looks at her, smoky eyes sharp and eager.

 

With Sarah, it’s no-nonsense – once the front door shuts behind them there are hands tugging at clothes, skidding over clasps and hooks in eagerness, kisses sloppy and satisfying as they stumble blindly toward the bedroom.

 

She forgets exactly how many orgasms she has, and they collapse in exhaustion, the sky just barely going grey with morning light.

 

It’s good. It throws her sleep schedule off _hardcore_ , but hey. It’s what she needs.

 

 

-

 

 

“Are you busy on Friday?”

 

Cosima looks away from her computer, finds Scott smiling at her eagerly, and goes back to her work. She’d take him up on his offer, but as much as she can hardly believe it, she’s kind of got a standing date thing going on. “Uh, yeah,” Cosima replies, and clears her throat, goes back to the data she’s trying to sort out. “I am.”

 

It’s not that she wants to keep him in the dark, because they are bros. She’s a big proponent of kiss and tell. But even though it’s not science, she keeps her mouth closed, almost laughs at the hesitation to name the fledgling thing she’s got going with Sarah in case she messes it all up somehow.

 

“Oh,” Scott says in the heavy silence that follows, and he does sound genuinely disappointed, moving around a couple of tubes over on his table before asking conversationally, “So, who is she?”

 

Crap. It’s no use lying, she’s always been terrible at it. She goes for deflection instead. “Damn,” Cosima murmurs, hitting save in her program just in case. “Am I that predictable?”

 

She can almost _hear_ Scott raise a brow expectantly, mouth a pouty little frown that she loves to make fun of. “You’re avoiding the question,” he repeats.

 

“This is a place of business, Scott,” Cosima admonishes, sticking her tongue out, because she and Scott have always brought out the best in each other. She turns, focuses determinedly on her computer, because with all this chitchat she’s going to screw up and if anyone finds out, she is so throwing Scott under the bus. She reaches into her desk, comfortable enough with him to get out her headphones – the universal sign for _end of conversation_. “And that’s for me to know and you to find out,” she adds, plugging the headphone jack into her phone.

 

“Still avoiding,” Scott sing-songs, and Cosima reaches up, rests the headphones just right on her head, and hits play on her music app.

 

“Bye, Scott!”

 

 

-

 

 

She has to admit that she’s a little surprised Sarah hasn’t gotten tired of her. A woman of that caliber could have anyone she wants, and for some reason Cosima can’t figure out, Sarah wants her. Whatever they have between them is _insanely_ mutual, and, despite her scientific bent, Cosima thanks the gods every time she checks her phone and finds a text from Sarah asking if she can come over.

 

Having an encyclopedic knowledge about anatomy probably hasn’t hurt. 

 

It’s with Sarah pinning her down, Sarah settled comfortable on her hips as she divests her of her top and then bra, that Sarah actually slows down, as her movements get thoughtful and she goes quiet before asking, “Cos?”

 

Cosima stutters a _yeah?_ because Sarah cups her breasts, looks down at her through her mane of hair, and brushes the pad of her thumb over a nipple thoughtfully.

 

“I’ve got a proposition for you,” Sarah says lightly, and a million different questions immediately come to mind. What comes out is –

 

“Uh. Okay. Shoot.”

 

Sarah raises a brow, does that little half-smile thing she does that has Cosima mirroring a grin as she asks, “How’d you like to have twice the fun?”

 

She’s got a vague idea of what that entails, since Sarah’s no prude. Cosima sits up as much as possible, ends up with Sarah in her lap, and reaches out to wrap arms around Sarah’s waist, holding her close. “Is that possible?” Cosima asks sincerely. Like, she’s _pretty_ damn happy where she is right now, with a half-naked Sarah in her lap, a look on her face like she’s going to eat her alive, and all night to spend together.

 

But at her answer that look changes, and Sarah smiles a little softer, a hint of warmth flashing there like Cosima’s said just the right thing.

 

“I’m willing to try if you are,” Sarah deadpans, doing her best to sound incredibly put-out, and Cosima laughs, shakes her head, and feels Sarah’s hands cup her jaw, tilting her face forward to kiss her.

 

“Yeah, for sure.”

 

 

-

 

 

Sunday mornings are meant for catching up on sleep, on eating everything in sight, for making up for a weekend of mind-blowing sex. And so Cosima wakes up, sun streaming in through the window and hitting her in the face, the bed warm but only from sunlight.

 

Sarah more often than not stays the night, but apparently not today. Cosima blinks, reaches down to the floor, and picks her phone off it, finds a text from Sarah, smiles and replies _u free tuesday?_ before tossing it aside and getting up. She gets dressed, toned-down as much as possible in a wine-red dress and heels for an afternoon in Bailey Downs, and heads out.

 

When she knocks on Alison’s door, it’s almost immediately opened up by Gemma, who Cosima doesn’t hesitate to reach down and pick up.

 

“Auntie Cosima!” Gemma shrieks, and Cosima hikes her up onto her hip, angles her away from her ear and gives her a squeeze-hug.

 

“Hey, kiddos!” she announces as Oscar comes running, too, latching onto her leg in a hug, and the house is soon filled with the chatter of Gemma and Oscar trying to cram as much information about their weeks and school work and lives into the brief moment they have before Cosima spots her cousin rounding the corner and coming into the hall.

 

“Gimme two seconds with your mom,” Cosima asks, setting Gemma down, and Oscar unlatches from her leg with a sigh. “And then I’ll come play with you guys, alright?”

 

It's a promise she never breaks and Alison’s raised her kids right, so Gemma and Oscar agree, grumble only a little before heading back to the living room, where Cosima hears the sounds of video games start up again. She turns, reaches out as Alison approaches, envelopes her in a hug that Alison returns.

 

“How are you doing?” Alison asks as they part, the two of them heading for the kitchen. It takes Alison no time at all to pop the cork out of a wine bottle, to get two glasses and pour them some, handing one to Cosima as she settles at the bar and Alison goes back to babying whatever she has in the oven.

 

“Fine. Working,” Cosima says, taking a sip of wine, and Alison turns around, looks at her skeptically, pink oven mitts on her hands. “Nothing new.”

 

“You’re lying,” Alison says flatly before opening the oven, stabbing at the roast in there, and Cosima sets down her wine. Is she really that bad at it?

 

“Shit, Alison,” she says, only because Gemma and Oscar are safely in another room and it’s fun to watch Alison’s face go tight at the profanity. Cosima takes another sip, wonders if Alison’s ever considered a career as an interrogator, and says, “You are scary good at this.”

 

Alison smiles at the compliment, shuts the oven door and yanks off the mitts, putting them back on the hook near the microwave. “Who is she?” she asks eagerly, taking a drink out of her own glass before looking around the kitchen. To her credit, Alison may look like an uptight soccer mom, but it's hardly the case. 

 

“You, too?” Cosima jokes. First Scott, now her.

 

Alison shrugs lightly, drops the subject at the lack of details from Cosima, and only offers, “Bring her around some time. I’d like to meet the girl that got you away from your Dungeons and Dragons team long enough to visit her cousin.”

 

“Maybe,” Cosima says, keeping a straight face, although the thought of Alison and Sarah meeting makes her want to laugh. “Thanks.” She watches as Alison heads for the kitchen sink, looking for something to do. Dinner won’t be ready for a while, and it’s not often that she gets out to Bailey Downs. Feeling a twinge of guilt, she gets up, follows Alison over to the sink, and vows to visit more as she asks, “You need any help?”

 

There’s a dirty dish in her hand before she knows it, and Alison smiles at her, handing over a sponge. “Donnie’s convinced he can fix the dishwasher himself, so of course it’s been broken for a week,” Alison says, starting water running. Cosima settles next to her, bumps her hip and watches Alison smile as she picks up a plate, too. “So I called a plumber, but he’s not coming until Monday. Now tell me more about her, Cosima.” 

 

-

 

 

The next time Sarah comes over, she’s early.

 

It's highly unusual, and as the doorbell rings Cosima drops off some last-minute stacks of books and paperwork in her office, closes the door so the mess isn’t visible, and takes a cursory chance around the living room before deciding _good enough_. She heads for the door, opens it, and finds Sarah grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

 

“Hey, babes,” Sarah drawls, leaning in to place a kiss on Cosima’s cheek and reach down to squeeze her ass before slipping inside. “This is Shay. We work together.”

 

And Cosima comes face to face with another woman, pretty and trendy and following behind Sarah and _holy hell_ is this what Sarah meant? She scrapes enough brain cells together to hold out her hand, to shake and say hello and not stare like a teenage boy at Shay, and wonder where the hell Sarah found her. Work, of course. But, like, this girl is the _total_ opposite of Sarah. 

 

“Come on in,” Cosima says, pleasantly confused, and motions for Shay to come inside, too.

 

Sarah takes over, already in the kitchen making them all drinks, and Cosima takes a deep breath as she shuts the door behind them all, lingers by it, unsure of what to say next. But before she can speak, Shay settles primly on her couch, pick up a book off the coffee table, one that Cosima almost wants to run forward and reach out and take back. But that’s over, and the book is nothing but a souvenir, and she breathes out, lets Shay handle the book, watches the other woman’s face light up as she reads the title. “Rimbaud, in the original French,” Shay says, approving as she catches Cosima’s eye. “Have you ever read anything by Neruda?”

 

It’s wasn't her book but it is now, and so Cosima laughs lightly. “Haven’t had the chance,” she answers honestly. "I just keep it out because it looks cool."

 

Sarah stalks over, and suddenly there’s an arm around her neck as Sarah pulls her close, presses a slick glass into her hand. “Now that you two _nerds_ have gotten acquainted,” she rasps amiably, and Sarah’s weight around her neck drags her towards the armchair opposite the coffee table. “How about we get this party started, yeah?”

 

Cosima sits down hard in her seat, drink forgotten as she watches Sarah stalk over to Shay, and the fact that she’s the only one who asks _what?_ is proof positive that Sarah has planned this. Shay doesn’t look the least bit surprised.

 

She’s probably died and gone to heaven and this is some sort of, like, dream scenario, because for starters Sarah doesn’t let her do anything except _watch_ , and Cosima decides it’s possibly the fucking hottest thing she’s ever experienced.

 

 

-

 

 

Is she greedy? She might be greedy.

 

The best sex of her life was less than two days ago, and already she’d broken out Google Sheets, trying to figure out when she and Sarah and Shay can coordinate schedules and meet up again because Shay had left and it had been just her and Sarah and Sarah had turned to her and asked, cocky, _twice the fun, yeah?_ , and she couldn’t lie about that.

 

“Am I greedy?” Cosima asks absently, leaving her beer untouched on the bar top, and Beth, who can knock gross beers back like a champ, takes a swig and swallows, shakes her head vehemently and holds out her hand that’s not currently holding her beer. She should be getting wasted with Beth, flagging down a bartender to get something more her style – and instead she’d mulling over the merits of Friday night versus Sunday morning and who’s most likely to commit to what day.

 

“No way,” Beth insists, voice as deadpan as always. She points at her, as if to drive the point home with the sheer force of her stare, and leans towards her a little too loosely, barreling towards buzzed as she says loudly, “ _Carpe diem_ , bro.”

 

The waitress stops by, slides a basket of onion rings in front of them, and Cosima thanks her, agrees because _why not_ , and swaps her beer, which she pushes towards Beth, for the onion rings. “This is why I go to you for advice," Cosima says gratefully as she takes a bite, because Beth Childs _tells it like it is_.

 

“Anytime,” Beth says, taking the proffered drink with a sloppy smile. “You know I love enabling you.”

 

 

-

 

 

She’s at the farmer’s market buying organic mushrooms – the _eating_ kind – from a lady with a kick-ass Slavic accent when she feels a tap on her shoulder. Cosima slips the mushrooms into her canvas shopping bag, turns, and if the mushrooms weren't already in her bag she'd probably have dropped them. Shay smiles at her, stands with one hand clutching the straps of her own bag coolly, says in her quiet voice, “Hey, you,” and somehow makes it sound like, _hey sexy_.

 

“Hey,” Cosima replies, swallowing. She’s stupidly tongue-tied, half-ready for their little run-in to dissolve into platitudes and goodbyes. She’s just Sarah’s friend, and she’s just saying hi, right? Her ridiculously cute friend, of course. Shay's rocking her oversized sunhat, and Cosima feels her heart skip a beat as Shay looks towards the stall, and then back at her, asking, “So what’s good here?”

 

That's a conversation starter if she's ever heard one. Cosima reaches into her own bag, holds up the mushrooms like a prize. At the price she got them at, they are. “I’d defs recommend the portabellos from this place,” Cosima says. “I’m going to make veggie burgers later.”

 

Shay smiles softly, one that seems to hide a laugh. “I could probably have guessed as much,” she comments, and Cosima sticks out her tongue before she can even think about what she’s doing. 

 

“I have to abide by at least _one_ stereotype, right?” she asks, and Shay’s face goes serious as she nods.

 

“I’m pescetarian, so I don’t have a leg to stand on,” Shay admits.

 

And it’s that critical point, Cosima can feel, where what they have between them will either blossom or stall with the right word. Cosima puts the mushrooms back in her bag, clears her throat, and shrugs, offers, “Hey, uh. If you’d like, I can cook these up for lunch, if you’re not busy.” She pauses, and, half-aware that she's started playing with a ring on her finger, twisting it, she adds with another shrug, “And if that’s not weird?”

 

But it seems to be the right thing to say, because Shay nods again, smiling, and she hitches her bag higher up on her shoulder – and it’s some kind of witchcraft, because without a word Cosima finds herself walking side by side with Shay, the two of them strolling at a leisurely pace through the farmer’s market. Girls, man. How do they do it?

 

“I’d love to,” Shay agrees, her shoulder brushing Cosima’s as they squeeze through a gap in the crowd, and Cosima nods, runs through her recipe in her head and what she needs to pick up while they're here and what in the world they’re going to talk about and – oh, hell, what has she gotten herself into?

 

But once the crowd thins out and they can walk side by side again, Cosima finds that Shay sticks close.

 

And just the two of them, later, it’s clear that touch, that bodies sliding against each other, slick, no space left between them, can’t be anything other than a good sign.

 

 

-

 

 

There are afternoons spent with candles and honey and pages from Neruda, and nights filled with whiskey and weed and sheets kicked off onto the floor, and some days with a kaleidoscope combination of it all. It does take up a huge chunk of her free time, and the offers to go out with the guys after work slow to a trickle, mentioned now by Scott mostly out of politeness.

 

“You look tired,” Scott says bluntly as they’re working on sequencing something Cosima knows she’s a little too tired to really be working on, and she looks up, squints like she’s pissed just to put the fear of god back in him. 

 

But after a moment, because _kiss and tell_ , she admits, “I am,” and Scott gives her a grin, one she only shakes her head at before grinning back.

 

“Dude,” he says approvingly, holding up his fist for a bump, and after a roll of her eyes, Cosima grins harder, holds up her own fist and bumps his.

 

“ _Dude_ ,” she agrees.

 

 

-

 

 

 

Sarah gets up at the crack of dawn, wakes them all up with the sound of her shower as she gets ready, and leaves them with a smile on her face because she’s seeing her daughter. When the front door slams shut and locks behind her, when her apartment goes back to some semblance of quiet, Cosima slides back under the covers, finds her way and settles between Shay’s thighs and feels Shay shudder and wake at her touch, her breath a low, quiet sigh. 

 

No more weeknights alone with take-out. No more shitty strip clubs with the guys. No more spare room in her bed. It’s nice.

 

Cosima blinks in the sudden light as Shay pushes back the sheets, uncovering her, and lets her fingers trail light over Shay’s hip as Shay sits up a little against the pillows. It's a fantastic view, Cosima thinks, and licks her lips, debates where to start. 

 

“Are we going to do anything else today?” Shay asks in amusement, no doubt trying to sound like the responsible adult between the two of them. Cosima knows she has her groceries to buy and papers to work on, and Shay and Sarah no doubt have their own lives to live, too. But Shay makes no move to leave and so Cosima shakes her head, urges Shay’s thighs apart with gentle nudges, and bows her head.

 

“Probably,” Cosima jokes, because there _are_ more important things to their relationship than just sex. It's not all they do. But she brushes a kiss against Shay that has her reaching out, grasping at the bedsheets, and teases, “But first, breakfast.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
